Written for Bed Eyes

Solid relaxation after the washes, like season bed, makes harm cease, white rabbits slow, need’s few. The need now is simple and done, the entering. A space where a door thumps shut, nothing opens, sunlight coming, cars pass. You want to get off this page, this plane, this possession, into fluid. The knowing mind, knows tricks, to not know. How easy to give in to the every day. How simple I become in my addictions. The hand to mouth, the eye to eye, never jointed, never satisfied. You can play the soldier, drive a truck, never finding luck, never love, never borrowing a cent, or be here in this, a heaven, if you quit.

What is this wanting, a thing, a praise, a following. You tell yourself, hey you, hey man, you can do this, stop that, but it continues. You need off here, getting off here, you need friends. You need less harm, more sights, rights, and delights, in simple tones. The mother, the father, the forces, drifting into tiredness, like days Sun gone, like kisses gone, a braveness in nothingness, no money, no fun, just you and walls. The hardest work is not the knowing, it is knowing when you know and remembering. You can forget it all so easily, with time, with distractions.

You must start early, like a job. Forget the dishes, the trucks, the sticks, the stones. You have a worth, like anyone, like mouths. You can show and prove in time, the simple knowings, a stature, a stare, forgiving self’s, giving to poor, a word, a knowing, a straight answer, no curls, no twists, no fiction. Set people straight, mate, you were ill like anyone has been, survived, how will you keep it now, out of trouble, months pass, years, never seeking hatred, never angry, just down, down, the dumps, with your itches. There is torture for all, in moments.



Author: leeethomas

Visual Artist, musician and writer from Australia. Interested in Love and the Mind.

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